


forever

by The_Eclectic_Bookworm



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2018-10-30 12:59:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10877274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Eclectic_Bookworm/pseuds/The_Eclectic_Bookworm
Summary: a series of short femslash fics from my tumblr!!





	1. monday morning (tara/faith)

Faith has sex with Tara on a sleepy Monday morning. It’s quiet, almost reverent, not at all the desperate neediness Faith is used to. Guys were rough, almost bruising, and the few girls she slept with before Tara were always hard and passionate. Faith kind of has a type.

But Tara is soft, and careful, and presses quiet kisses to Faith’s mouth, placing firm, gentle hands on Faith’s shoulders and pushing her back into the pillows. Tara wants Faith to lie back, lie down, close her eyes and savor the moment, all those things that Faith was always afraid she wouldn’t be able to do.

“I love you,” Tara says, after. It isn’t the first time she’s said it. It won’t be the last. Faith doesn’t hear those words a lot, and didn’t ever even let herself imagine she’d ever hear them from Tara. Certainly not in _this_ context, when Tara’s drowsy and warm in her arms.

“I love you,” Faith echoes. It’s the first time her words don’t feel easy and biting. It scares her, a little, but she’s too in love to pull away just because she’s a little bit afraid. She kisses Tara again.

* * *

 

Tara makes pancakes. _Of course,_ Faith wants to say, in that same playful way she might tease Buffy or Willow. _You always seemed like the homemaker type._ But Tara smiles so brightly when Faith comes into the kitchen that all of Faith’s prepared sarcasm flies out the window and becomes a breathless, “God, you’re beautiful.”

What does this girl do to her?

Tara’s smile softens and she ducks her head shyly, honey-brown hair falling from where it’s tucked behind her ear. She flips a pancake.

Faith steps forward so that she’s standing behind Tara. She doesn’t know what to say, or what she wants, so she just winds her arms around Tara’s waist from behind, resting her head on Tara’s shoulder and looking over at the pancakes. “Funny shapes,” she says. It’s not quite teasing, but it makes her feel a little more like herself and less like…whatever this is. Not that whatever this is is a bad thing.

“I’m not all that good at rounds,” says Tara with a rueful laugh in her voice. “I try, but they always end up squiggly.”

“I like ‘em,” Faith says with conviction, pressing a playfully sloppy kiss to Tara’s cheek. Tara’s nose wrinkles when she giggles. “So. What’s the plan for today, now that we’ve done the whole love-confession thing and you’ve made breakfast?”

“There’s a movie playing at the movie theater a few blocks down,” says Tara, leaning back into Faith’s arms. Faith feels a nervous _jump_ in her stomach at that small gesture of trust. She still doesn’t completely feel like she’s earned it, no matter what Tara says. “Some animated film about a princess.”

“Ew,” says Faith.

“ _Don’t_ tell me you’re pretending you’re too good for princesses,” says Tara with playful reproof, turning from the pancakes to kiss Faith’s nose. Faith doesn’t realize she’s smiling until Tara _beams_ at her, which makes Faith smile wider and kiss the corner of Tara’s mouth. “Oh, hold on, sweetie, the pancakes might burn—”

“Let ‘em,” says Faith.

“Easy for _you_ to say,” says Tara, “ _you_ snuck some cereal in right after we slept together.”

“Damn, and here I thought I got that one past you.” Faith steps back, and for the first time in a very long while, the empty space in her arms where Tara was doesn’t feel permanent and lonely. “What do I do while you’re over there?” she adds playfully, reaching out to rest a hand on Tara’s hip.

Tara leans into her touch and flips the pancake again. “Talk to me,” she says. “I’m listening.”

It’s warm in the kitchen, and sunlight is shining in through the window above the sink. It catches in Tara’s hair like little bits of golden thread, like Tara was always woven into the sunlight to begin with. Faith remembers how it felt to touch that hair, push it away from Tara’s neck and press her mouth there in its place. “I wanna order pizza tonight,” she says.

“Are you staying over again?” There’s amusement in Tara’s voice.

“You got a problem with that?”

Tara turns off the stove, looking over her shoulder at Faith. That quirky little half-smile that Faith fell in love with is blooming on her face. “You never asked,” she says, “but no. I don’t.”

Faith sits down. “Cool,” she says, and holds out a hand. Tara takes it, letting Faith pull her down into a kiss. “Glad to see _some_ people appreciate me sticking around.”

“It’s a little early in the relationship to move in together,” says Tara, rubbing her nose against Faith’s in a way that a younger, angrier Faith would have made fun of, “or I’d ask you to stay over forever.”

“Forever,” Faith repeats, and there’s a sudden knot in her chest. She’s not sure how she feels about the word or its permanence. She doesn’t know if she wants to trust it.

“In the m-metaphorical sense.” Tara’s smile slips a bit.

Faith hesitates. “Metaphors are cool and all,” she says, choosing her words carefully, “but you—you should know—” It takes her a moment to continue. “I don’t know how to love people overnight,” she says finally. “It takes time, for me. The getting there, but also the getting out.”

“Do you want to get out?” Tara doesn’t sound hurt or guarded, just thoughtful, and it makes Faith love her all the more.

Faith shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says finally. “There aren’t a lot of things I trust.”

Tara kisses Faith. When she pulls away, her hand strokes Faith’s cheek. “If forever is too much,” she says, “how about me promising that I’ll be here until it isn’t?”

“Same thing as forever, really,” says Faith, trying to make it sound light. Her heart is pounding. “I just—Tara, I don’t know how to do the whole romantic _till death do us part_ shit. I wasn’t even planning on living this long. I don’t want you to think I’m able to be something I’m not.”

“I know who you are,” says Tara gently, and tucks a strand of hair behind Faith’s ear. “You’re the woman I love, even if you’re scared sometimes. Love _is_ scary. Don’t ever be afraid that I won’t understand that.”

Faith doesn’t _relax,_ exactly. She still feels like she should be scared of _something._ The quiet tranquility of a few moments ago is gone, and she misses it. “What if I’m scared a lot?” she says finally.

Tara tucks her head into Faith’s shoulder, and that hard knot in Faith’s chest loosens just a little. “Then we can be scared together,” she says.


	2. changes (willow/buffy)

It’s  _natural._ That’s the only way to describe it. It doesn’t feel like when Willow fell for Tara. The moment after she had leaned in and kissed Tara (late at night, sitting on the edge of Tara’s bed), she’d pulled away and realized how soft and bright Tara’s smile was, how beautiful her eyes were, how wonderful it felt when they were holding each other. It felt like every day meant a new discovery, with Tara.

But—it’s different with Buffy. Which is to be expected, obviously, because Buffy and Tara are different people and what would it mean if she felt exactly the same about Buffy as she had about Tara? Frankly, that would be something of a disservice to both of them. Anyway. Willow’s getting off topic. It’s different with Buffy because it feels like—coming up from under the water. Like you always knew that this was where you were going to end up, even if you weren’t really thinking about it while you were swimming around and having a good time.

“Coming up from under the water,” Buffy repeats. Her voice is lazy and slow. Willow’s heard her sound that sleepy before, in the morning after a late-night slaying session or in the library after they fell asleep researching. It doesn’t feel new at all. It makes Willow wonder how it took her this long to figure all this out in the first place. “That’s—very  _you._ ”

“What’s that mean?” Willow murmurs, reaching out across the bed to stroke Buffy’s hair.

“You always—” Buffy stops talking, leaning into Willow’s hand with a contented sigh. “Mmm. That’s nice.”

“ _Buffy,_ ” says Willow, holding back a laugh.

“You say things in such a Willow-y way,” says Buffy, sleepy and vague. She moves closer, draping an arm over Willow’s waist, and tilts her head up.

Maybe they were always in love, and Willow never realized it.

* * *

Some things that don’t change: they still have movie nights, still cuddled up together like puzzle pieces the same way that they were in high school. Willow only realizes right then that the movie nights stopped being so cuddly-cozy around the same time Faith showed up, but decides that that’s maybe not something to bring up with Buffy until Buffy brings it up with her. Buffy’s only now figured out that she’s got feelings for Willow, and that quiet, half-hidden crush didn’t have even half the complexities of Faith and Buffy’s feelings for each other.

“You always make the best popcorn,” says Willow, resting her head on Buffy’s shoulder.

Buffy shrugs nonchalantly. “I just put it in the microwave.”

* * *

They tell Giles first.

“How do I start?” Buffy doesn’t seem nervous, only contemplative. Willow isn’t sure how or why Buffy’s so calm about this, because  _she’s_ never been so nervous in her life. “Do I open with ‘Giles, I’m bi and dating Willow,’ or should I go ‘Giles, I’m dating Willow and I’m bi?’ Because I kind of feel like if I start with me being bi, that distracts from me wanting to tell him about dating you.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” says Willow. She doesn’t mean for her voice to come out this high and panicked, but it does. “What if he’s upset?”

Buffy looks honestly surprised by this concept. “He was totally cool with you when you came out!” she says, placing a reassuring hand on Willow’s shoulder (like always) and pressing a reassuring kiss to Willow’s forehead (that part’s a little newer). “I don’t see why that wouldn’t apply to me too.”

Willow hesitates. Then she says, “I tried to  _kill him._  And then he had to spend three months teaching me the right and wrong ways to deal with magic. And Buffy, he loves you  _so much,_ what if he doesn’t think I’m good enough for you? Or—”

Buffy kisses Willow. She pulls back, studies Willow’s face, then kisses her again. “Listen,” she says. “Giles loves you too. Whether or not he thinks you’re good enough for me is super not important, because I love you and I’m going to date the hell out of you either way.”

“But—”

“ _But,_ ” says Buffy, “it’s also super not important because Giles loves you too. I mean, sure, he’s going to be a little surprised that I’m open to lady-loving, but he’s known you since you were in high school and he’s never once thought you weren’t good enough for anything.”

“I almost killed him,” says Willow.

“And he’s made it pretty clear that he’s forgiven you for that, so why would it come up again now?” Buffy smiles at Willow, soft and warm. “He loves you,” she says. “Almost as much as I love you.”

That makes Willow feel warm and fuzzy. She wraps her arms around Buffy’s neck, standing cheek-to-cheek with her girlfriend like they’re slow-dancing on Giles’s front step. “Really?” she says.

“Absolutely,” says Buffy with that adorable, playful conviction that Willow fell in love with. She kisses Willow one last time, steps out of Willow’s arms, and rings the doorbell.

* * *

Some things that don’t change: they still live together, the same way they had during those last years in Sunnydale. Or—after Tara, Willow spent some time in England, but mostly they were living in the same house. So Willow already knows about stuff like Buffy being a little forgetful when it comes to hanging jackets up, and Buffy being a really good dish-washer, and Buffy taking cat naps on the couch on lazy Saturday afternoons. She doesn’t get that discovery period that she’d had with Tara.

It’s strange. Willow always imagined that the second time she fell in love would be hesitant and hurting, every part of her aware that this meant she was finally moving on from Tara. She’d have all those little moments all over again, finding out things like  _my girlfriend’s a slob_ or  _my girlfriend’s good at cuddling._ And if she  _wasn’t_ able to have that, she’d always thought she’d be sad.

But she’s not.

The moment Willow realizes that she’s happy is twisted in with a little bit of guilt, because Buffy was around when she was dating Tara, and what would Tara think of Willow dating Buffy now?

“I think she’d be happy,” says Dawn, coming into Willow and Buffy’s tiny kitchen and taking a jar of peanut butter out of the fridge. She fumbles in the silverware drawer for a spoon. “Tara always wanted you to be happy and stable and all that jazz, and it seems like you’re doing pretty good with that.”

Willow manages a tired, fluttery smile. “I hope so,” she says quietly.

“Hey.” Buffy winds her arms around Willow’s waist, hugging her from behind. “How’s my girl?”

Willow leans back into Buffy and thinks. Tara always  _did_ want her to be happy, even after—

“Willow’s all insecure this morning,” says Dawn through a mouthful of peanut butter. “Not that it’s any of my business what you guys get up to, but you should totally give her some extra kisses today.”

“How’s it going with that cute girl you work with?” says Buffy casually. “What’s her name—Holly? Rowan? Some kind of plant-y thing, right?”

Dawn turns bright pink and starts giggling nervously that Buffy doesn’t know what she’s talking about and besides which the girl’s name is  _Haley_ so Buffy isn’t even close. Buffy steps away from Willow to make some kind of joke about how all the Summers sisters are into girls, and Willow looks out the window, still thinking.

It isn’t that she loves Tara more than Buffy, or that she feels guilty for being with anyone who isn’t Tara. It’s that Willow’s moved on, and some small part of her feels awful for it, because Tara had loved her  _so_ much. And would she be with Tara now, if Tara was alive? Would she have missed out on Buffy’s kisses and Buffy’s arms around her? Willow doesn’t like thinking about not getting to be with Buffy. 

It’s confusing. And it makes Willow hurt a little.

“Hey,” says Buffy, this time in a different tone of voice. She tugs gently at Willow’s hands until Willow’s facing her. “You okay?”

Willow looks at Buffy’s small, reassuring smile. There’s one thing she  _does_ know, and it’s that she loves Buffy. It’s been an indisputable fact for so long that there’s no part of it that scares her, which is unusual, because almost everything in her life has scared her at one point or another. “I’ll get there,” she says. It’s the truth.


	3. colors (willow)

Willow has a crush on Giles.

Obviously.

Buffy looks a little knowing and giggly every time Willow starts gushing about Giles, the same way Willow feels when Buffy’s twirling her hair in the corner of the Bronze and determinedly not looking over her shoulder at Angel. There’s a picture of Willow and Giles in Willow’s locker, both of them smiling at the camera. Giles’s smile has that note of polite obligation to it; Willow gets the sense that he only took that picture with her because he cares about her, which makes it all the more nice to have.

It’s not weird to have a crush on a teacher. Not unless you do something about it, and Willow has no intention to do anything about it. She can have nice, fluttery, uncomplicated feelings for Giles and still go into the Sunnydale Library and help out with researching. Most of the time, she’s so preoccupied with helping everyone that she forgets about her crush on Giles completely. It’s pretty lucky that she’s got Buffy and Xander to teasingly remind her.

Giles is a good choice to have a crush on, anyway. He’s smart, and kind, and he’s never once teased anyone about anything. Sure, he’s a little terse with them all sometimes, but he’s got a lot of pressure on his shoulders.

The funny thing is, though, when Willow thinks stuff like that ( _he’s got a lot of pressure, he could use the opportunity to loosen up_ ) she doesn’t really feel that need to be the one to help him. Like—when she’s thinking about helping Buffy, she feels a little twist in her chest at the thought of anyone who isn’t her helping Buffy, but the thought of her _helping_ Giles in a romantic sense makes her feel more than a little nervous. Because—he’s so experienced. It must be that. Giles is the perfect choice to have a crush on, so Willow _must_ have a crush on him. That’s the way it works.

Oh—when she’s thinking about _helping_ Buffy—it’s not romantic. Not—she doesn’t think of Buffy that way. Obviously not.

Somehow Willow’s lapsed into stammering even in her own train of thought.

* * *

 

Ms. Calendar ( _I’d go by Jenny,_ she says at the beginning of her first class, _but the principal’s a real stick-in-the-mud about that kind of thing)_ has soft, dark hair, the color of melty chocolate, and the first thing Willow wonders when she sees that hair is what it smells like. Which is kind of a weird thing to think about, but hello—Willow’s kind of weird. She likes school more than almost anyone she knows, and if that doesn’t qualify to put her at the top of the weird list, what would?

Probably the next thing Willow wonders might do the trick, which is when she looks at the cherry-red lipstick Ms. Calendar wears and tries to figure out what it would taste like. Her brain catches up with what she’s just thought. She knocks all her books off her desk.

At the teacher’s computer, Ms. Calendar looks up, dark eyes quizzical. Willow blushes almost as red as her hair and gets out of her chair, kneeling down on the floor to reorganize her books.

* * *

 

Willow thinks about Ms. Calendar all week. She gets the sense that Giles is thinking about Ms. Calendar too, because when Ms. Calendar walks by the library Giles gets all flushed and angry-looking and starts talking very loudly to no one about how glad he is that so many students appreciated the library as it is, no computers necessary. Ms. Calendar rolls her eyes and keeps walking, but she throws a look back over her shoulder at Willow as if to say _yikes, I’m sorry you have to deal with that._

Willow blinks, then tries to give Ms. Calendar a cool, knowing, _it’s okay, he’s not too bad_ smile, but it just comes out as her grinning like a dork. Ms. Calendar smiles back and actually winks at Willow, kind of an _our little secret_ wink, or maybe Willow’s reading too much into this. Maybe Ms. Calendar just likes Willow because Willow made that comment about algorithms. It was a pretty witty comment, actually, so it would make sense with—

“ _What_ is wrong with the people in this library?” Buffy’s voice is a mixture of amused and irritated. “Giles, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you had a thing for that teacher who just walked by.”

To Willow’s surprise, Giles turns a mortified shade of pink and stammers something along the lines of “completely absurd” before hurrying off to file something that doesn’t look like it really needs filing. Buffy gives Willow an amused little grin before heading over to start on her sparring drills.

Wait. This is when Willow’s supposed to be jealous, right? When your crush might have feelings for someone else, shouldn’t you be jealous? But all Willow’s got is amusement at Giles’s blush and a small voice in her head saying _it’s not like Ms. Calendar likes him back, so it’s not really a problem for me just yet._

Not that Willow’s got a crush on Ms. _Calendar._ That would be silly. That would be like having a crush on Buffy. Or Cordelia. Or, okay, maybe not Cordelia, because Ms. Calendar’s _way_ nicer and friendlier than Cordelia, and Buffy’s got the prettiest hair Willow’s ever seen, and yeah, Cordelia’s kind of okay looks-wise, but Buffy and Ms. Calendar are _super_ pretty.

You know. Objectively speaking.

* * *

 

“You’ve been _so_ spacey.” Buffy knocks her arm gently against Willow’s, the way friends do, and it makes Willow feel tingly and warm. She hasn’t had a girlfriend in a while. Not, you know, a _girlfriend,_ but just—a girl. Who’s a friend. That kind of girlfriend. “Anything you can share with me?”

Willow shrugs and tries to smile. “I’m not sure,” she says truthfully.

Buffy’s smile flickers. “You’re not sure if you can share with me?”

“O-oh, no, it’s not like that!” says Willow hastily. “It’s just—I’ve been feeling weird, you know, about my crush on Giles.” As soon as she says the words, she knows that they’re true. “I don’t know if it’s the way a crush is supposed to feel.”

Buffy considers this. Then she says, “Putting aside the fact that I totally cannot see the appeal in Giles, what do you think a crush is supposed to feel like?”

Willow thinks of Ms. Calendar’s cherry-red lips curving up into a smile. She looks at the buttercup-yellow of Buffy’s hair. “Colorful,” she says.

“Colorful,” Buffy repeats. There’s a thoughtful frown on her face. “You know, I kinda get that. I could tell you fifty different colors in Angel’s eyes alone.” She turns a little pink. “But, uh, we’re not talking about Angel, are we?”

Willow giggles a little nervously. “No,” she says.

Buffy continues to speak, but Willow’s attention is suddenly drawn to the color of Buffy’s eyes. She can see gray, but it’s not the kind of boring Crayola gray you think of when you hear the word _gray._ It’s soft and smooth, like one of those stones you pick up on the beach, and there are little flecks of blue and green. Buffy’s eyes are like if you tried to bottle up the ocean, which makes a lot of sense for a powerful Vampire Slayer like her. Sometimes Willow forgets how strong Buffy has to be. She’s like a force of nature all on her own.

If Buffy’s the ocean, Ms. Calendar’s—Willow falters. But then she thinks of the chocolaty brown of Ms. Calendar’s hair, and the cherry-red of Ms. Calendar’s smile, and realizes that Ms. Calendar’s one of those gorgeous desserts you see in a store window. Wonderful and delicious.

She draws in a sharp breath at the next logical leap, which is _I think I want to kiss Ms. Calendar._ Which—doesn’t sound quite as scary or stomach-twisting as the concept of kissing a boy always has been. It’s normal, right? Hormonal teenage girl trying to explore her sexuality? Her mom’s talked about stuff like that.

“Earth to Willow?” Buffy pokes Willow’s shoulder. “God, you’ve got that face Xander gets whenever the cheerleaders walk by.”

Willow laughs nervously. “I need to do some reading,” she says. “If—that’s okay?”

“Well, I _did_ know coming into this friendship that you’re Book Girl,” Buffy replies playfully. “I’ll go hang with Xander while you read.”

“Sure,” Willow agrees, managing a smile.

Buffy smiles back—the usual Bubbly Buffy Grin—and bounces across the library to say something to Xander. Willow glances furtively over at Giles, who’s filing books, and tries to find colors in his eyes. But he’s looking down, and there’s nothing in his expression that makes Willow’s heart really speed up.


	4. knights and dragons (willow/tara)

The thing about Tara that takes Willow a very long time to understand is that there’s no subterfuge with her. Sure, there are layers (there always are, with people), but Willow never feels like she’s being someone she’s not, around Tara. She doesn’t have to twist herself into the girl who loves Oz, the girl who wants Xander, the girl who daydreams about her wedding to a nice boy and plans for a fairytale-esque happily ever after.

The thing about Tara that Willow loves, unapologetically and without even thinking, is that Tara loves fairy tales too, even though both of them know that those fairy tales weren’t really written with them in mind.

“Oh, of _course,_ ” says Tara when Willow brings up watching a Disney movie, as though it shouldn’t have even been a question in the first place. They dim the lights in the living room and cuddle up on the couch, because Buffy’s mom isn’t home, Buffy’s out on patrol, and Buffy always says that they should stop by whenever they feel like something a little more spacious than a dorm room.

Tara hides her face in Willow’s shoulder at the scary parts. They’re not actually _that_ scary, in Willow’s opinion, but Willow is in love and she’s starting to get why those Disney guys swordfight and fistfight and push people off too-high places all to protect some girl. If Tara were in danger, Willow would throw down, even though Willow still hasn’t really mastered the art of throwing down.

Half of their popcorn ends up spilled when Tara yelps at a jump-scare and accidentally kicks the coffee table. Willow doesn’t really mind. “This too scary for you?” she asks, and tucks Tara’s hair out of the way, pressing a kiss to the spot right under Tara’s ear.

Willow feels like she’s rediscovering herself, with Tara. As it happens, the nerdy girl who was so hesitant around boys is actually a kind, intelligent, talented girl who makes girls go all weak in the knees. Granted, this is according to Tara, but Tara’s pretty much an expert on girls in Willow’s opinion; not even kind, careful Oz could inspire the same butterflies that Tara does with a kiss on the cheek or a hand on Willow’s shoulder. Willow is in a constant debate with herself as to whether or not Tara knows what she’s capable of.

“Mmm, no,” says Tara decisively. “I just get jumpy. I like this, though.”

“Good,” says Willow, and snuggles closer, because even without layers of blanket and clothing and stray bits of popcorn she never feels too close to Tara. “Also I love you,” she adds, decisively. She likes saying it. She likes the way it sounds, and she likes the way it always makes Tara smile (different each time, depending on the time of day).

“That’s _nice,_ ” says Tara, and kisses Willow’s nose. “I love you too.”

“What’s going on in the movie?” Willow asks, not really caring.

Tara seems to consider this. Then she says, “Irrelevant,” and gives Willow a very nice kiss.

Willow is also getting used to kissing Tara. She doesn’t want to say she’s getting used to kissing a girl; saying that takes away from the very important fact that it’s Tara she’s kissing, and Willow sort of doubts that any other girl could make her feel the same way that Tara does right now.

When Willow had kissed the very small number of boys she’d dated (technically, she’d only really dated Oz, but Xander kinda sorta counted, probably), she’d felt dizzy and happy and proud of herself, because this felt like the kind of achievement that deserved documentation or a special sticker or a medal or something. Kissing Tara—is kissing Tara. Which sounds stupid, but there’s really nothing Willow can say that describes the way her world slows down when Tara’s in her arms.

“Hey,” says Willow, and pulls back. “Hey, baby, you know I’d fight a dragon for you, right?” She considers, then says, “I’d _be_ a dragon for you.” That’s true too, she thinks, she’d burn the world to ash if it would protect this girl.

Tara’s smile flickers and she looks a little sad. “Oh, sweetie,” she says. “Just be Willow.”


End file.
